


Movie Star

by Anonymous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blackmail, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Tapes, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I hope this destroys you,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I hope you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Shido Masayoshi (implied)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90
Collections: Anonymous





	Movie Star

"Is everything alright, Kurusu-kun?"

They're alone in Leblanc. Sojiro has gone home some time ago, leaving Akira with the task of closing the place up. The insufferable cat is nowhere to be seen, likely making up some excuse to leave them alone since he seems to hate Akechi just as much as Akechi hates him.

They couldn't make things smoother for him. 

Akechi watches Akira intently like a hawk, hoping he looks more concerned than ecstatic, but it's clear that Akira is no longer capable of taking in his surroundings, his gaze a little hazy as he tries to meet Akechi's gaze. His eyelids look heavy, almost begging for Akechi's permission to fall shut. And because he's merciful, Akechi gives it to him. When Akira stumbles, Akechi is there to catch him, running his hands up and down Akira's back comfortingly.

"You must be tired," his words are almost tender, and yet, he can't help the triumphant grin as Akira goes all but limp in his arms, more of his weight seeking support in Akechi's body. "It's been a long day. Why don't you lie down for a while?"

He doesn't know how much Akira can still feel or hear after being drugged, but just in case, he whispers sweet nothings to calm him down as he helps him upstairs, and then, onto the bed. 

He's not sure whether Shido wants him to leave a message just yet, so it's wise to fake concern for now. He finds it a little impressive that Akira's still fighting the drug, his body far stronger and more resilient than Akechi expected it to be. Must be the result of his Metaverse experience, or that weird local doctor that he mentioned briefly. It's likely Shido's goons got the drug from her in the first place, and Akechi scoffs at the irony of it all. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching the heavy rise and fall of Akira's chest. Akira tries to say something, but his tongue is no longer able to form words, so he makes a few unintelligible sounds that vaguely sound like Akechi's name. He's so pretty with his dark eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and his red lips trying to convey the last message before finally giving up. Some part of Akechi wants to kiss him - just for being so delightfully obedient.

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the same unease he's felt since he first set foot in Leblanc this evening, with his mind already set and the briefcase prepared with all the necessary equipment for what he was about to do.

It was easy enough to distract Akira, whose head is always in the clouds when he's near Akechi, so trusting and open, and once again, he got to use it to his advantage. He easily slips the drug into Akira's cup of coffee when he's busy chatting and washing the dishes, and then it was just a matter of patience as they continued their small-talk. 

Finally, Akira's eyelids flutter shut and his breath evens out. He looks so peaceful, it almost breaks his heart. Almost.

He's going to make it good for him. Akira should only be grateful.

Akechi can't help but rest his hand against Akira's cheek, caressing it gently with his gloved hand. "Fair fight, Joker. But you can never win against me, you should know that by now."

With his hand still on Akira's cheek, he slaps him hard enough for Akira's head to turn to the side sharply, the sound sacrilegiously loud in the silence of the attic. He doesn’t stir, and Akechi can’t help but let his eyes linger on his cheek, now red and swollen where Akechi hit him.

Red is such a good color on him.

After making sure Akira's unconscious, he starts stripping him, layer after layer, until Akira's left in nothing but his underwear - it takes some effort with Akira's body completely limp under his hands, but it's nothing that Akechi hasn't done before. He gently strokes him through the fabric, but it's barely enough to get Akira half-hard, and Akechi tsks under his breath. He'll just use his mouth on him later.

For now, he decides to set up his equipment, making sure the camera has the best angle where it's pointed towards the bed, but it's not recording just yet. He has to call Shido, after all, to make sure everything is exactly according to the plan.

He sets the bottle of lube next to Akira's sleeping body, just in case he won't be able to get wet, before pulling out his phone to call his father. He answers after just a few rings, and Akechi sighs in relief, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible. He sits down on the mattress, trying not to look at Akira. 

Shido doesn't greet him, always getting straight to the point. It's one of the few things Akechi likes about his dear old dad. 

“Do you have the camera set up?” he asks sharply.

“Yes,” Akechi mutters into the phone. He doesn’t know why he keeps his voice down, it’s not like Akira can hear him. "Everything's prepared, just the way you wanted it."

"Hope your cunt is all nice and ready, I want it to be a good one."

That's sweet. It's almost like he cares. 

"It doesn't really matter if I'm wet," he answers honestly, his hand traveling down to unzip his pants, but he finds his underwear still dry. "I'll make a good show out of it anyway."

_You know I'm a good actor._

"Don't be filthy when talking to me," Shido scolds him, and Akechi almost chuckles. That's right. He only likes him nice and pure. Begging for cock with his pleading eyes only when it pleases him. "But I know how hard you work. I saw that one from last night. You really outdid yourself."

Hearing praise from his father makes his chest swell with pride, and his stomach turns with disgust. It's enough to make him dizzy.

"Thank you, sir," he says politely - just the way Shido likes it. He can almost see him smiling. "I must say, however, that I'm not exactly sure what you want me to do here. How exactly do you want me to blackmail _him_?"

"Whores like you shouldn't question my decisions," Shido snaps, but Akechi knows the only way to get some answers out of him is to make Shido feel like he's doubting him. He waits patiently until his father calms down, tapping his fingers against Akira's naked thigh.

"If you really need to know," Shido continues after a while, and Akechi can't help but smirk. "It's not just about blackmailing him. I want you to break him."

"Break him?"

"You said so yourself, he's head over heels for you. Knowing what he did to you, what you did to him... We'll break the Phantom Thieves from the inside. Starting with their pulsating heart. And of course, I imagine that if a tape like that were to leak... who knows, maybe if we play our cards right, we'll be able to press some charges. And if that doesn't work out, I'll just have you kill him, but I'd rather avoid the public turning him into some sort of martyr."

Akechi would much rather kill Akira than do this, but he doesn't say it.

"If you decide to leak the tape," he points out carefully. "Then that means... everyone will see me on it, doesn't it? What about my career?"

"The Phantom Thieves are gaining popularity by the day," Shido snarls, clearly pissed off that he still needs to waste his time talking to him. "I think you've already done enough and you managed to prove just how useless you are to me. The public now hates you, congratulations. But not everything is lost. Maybe you'd be more fitting for a different job. Think about it, _movie star_."

Akechi doesn't know what to say - he doesn't feel angry, in fact, he realizes, he doesn't feel anything at all. It doesn't matter to him what role Shido wants him to play. As long as his own plan doesn't suffer from it, he's fine becoming a sex worker, a porn star, or whatever else that will make him useful.

It's the only fear he still has - outliving his usefulness before his revenge comes to fruition. He can't let that happen.

"My body belongs to you, sir."

Quite literally - but it's not like Shido can appreciate the irony. Akechi is going to make sure he will someday.

He wants Shido to praise him but the praise never comes. "Make sure you leave some sort of proof. I need him to know what happened even before we send that tape to him."

"Understood. I'll make sure he knows what transpired here, even if he's sound asleep."

"So the drug was effective," Shido sneers in mockery. "I had to go through a lot of trouble to get it for you. You're so pathetic you can't even get some teenage boy's cock inside you."

"It's because..." Akechi tries to explain, but he bites his tongue before finishing the sentence.

It's because he's not like that. He's not like Akechi or Shido. He doesn't belong to their world. 

"I'm so very sorry for causing you this much trouble," he says instead, and he bows instinctively despite Shido not being able to actually see him. "I'm sure you'll be happy with the results."

"I'd better be. Now quit the idle chit-chat and get that filthy cunt of yours wet. Don't forget - you're only good for anything with your legs wide open."

He hangs up and Akechi's hand clenches around the phone for a moment until he calms down enough to get on with his task. He stands up calmly and leaves his phone on Akira's desk, undressing without a particular rush as he looks unemotionally at Akira's body. His clothes fall to the floor completely soundlessly. It's almost like it's not even real.

He still hasn't moved an inch.

The attic is a little cold, and he can feel his nipples perk up painfully, but he ignores it, letting his underwear join the rest of his garments on the floor. He's all nice and shaved - not like Akira will be able to appreciate it - since Shido and his friends prefer him that way, pristine and flawless like an empty canvas. He's always been a doll in their hands, his body more plastic than flesh with each passing day.

He walks over to the camera and starts the recording. He still needs to get Akira hard for him, but Shido can just cut the parts that don't please him.

He sits on the bed, Akira's presence somewhat comforting in the coldness of the room. He allows himself to observe him for a moment. 

Akira's lips are slightly parted, his eyes moving under his eyelids and Akechi can't help but wonder if he's somehow aware of everything happening. Maybe he's just having a dream, and in some strange fit of pity, Akechi finds himself hoping it's a good one. He deserves that one last dream before Akechi's done with him.

He removes Akira's underwear swiftly, watching Akira's length bounce against his belly, still a little hard, but definitely not enough for Akechi to be pleased with him. Even half-hard, he's already big and Akechi almost laughs thinking how he's much bigger than most of the important guys he slept with - attic trash like him.

He takes him into his hand, watching his face at all times, but Akira doesn't stir. If anything, his eyebrows are just slightly more furrowed. Akechi quickens his pace, spreading precum from Akira's cock with his thumb, and then twisting his hand like an expert he is, but it's not enough, even with his skillful hands, and Akechi doesn't want it to take forever. Besides, he was supposed to make it a show.

He makes sure he looks downright sinful as he positions himself over Akira with his ass up and legs spread, just enough to catch a glimpse of his hole in the camera without obscuring the view.

Akechi leans over, licking a wet strip up Akira's hardness, ignoring the bitter taste on his tongue as he forces himself to enjoy it. He takes him into his mouth, sucking on the tip until he feels Akira grow harder against his tongue, and he can’t help but stop a moan that escapes his throat when it happens. He reaches between his own legs and to his surprise, he finds himself already dripping. Well, at least that part is easier than he expected.

With one hand still between his folds, he swirls his tongue around the head before taking in as much of Akira's cock as possible with practiced ease. He can feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but he doesn't gag, swallowing around Akira's length, as he moves his head up and down, his long hair getting in the way of the movements, but he doesn't mind, not even one bit. His mind is already filled with steady static, and he chooses to focus on making it look good on the tape instead.

On a whim, he grabs Akira's hand and pathetically, places it on his head where it stays for a moment, before sliding back to the mattress limp and useless. He wishes Akira could grab his hair and just fuck his mouth until he hits the bottom of his throat. He wishes Akira could force him to gag until he feels overwhelmed and pathetic trying not to puke, and then when Akechi is all but dreaming about tasting Akira on his tongue, for him to roughly pull out to come all over his face instead.

Lost in his fantasy, he almost lets Akira come into his mouth - he can sense it from the very weak twitch of his hips that he can't stop even sound asleep. He pulls out with a wet pop, and he's happy to see that even in his sleep, Akira looks more flushed, a faint red blush creeping up his neck.

"You're the one who's pathetic," he says, hoping Akira gets to hear it on the recording. 

He usually stretches himself open before accepting Shido's jobs, but he doesn't want to do it this time. If he's going to do this to Akira, he wants it to hurt. He wants to make sure he feels it the next day and he wants to hate himself for it. 

He straddles Akira's hips, coating his length with his own juices, and he can't help but groan when the tip of his cock brushes against his swollen clit. His folds make a wet sound as he grinds against Akira's hardness, and maybe he's enjoying it far more than he thought he would be, but he can always say it was all for the show.

With an impatient sound that escapes his lips, he reaches behind himself and grabs Akira's cock, positioning it over his hole. He's still dripping, so it slips at the first few attempts, but finally, finally, he manages to get it inside and he throws his head back, moaning from the burning stretch of it. 

It hurts, just the way he thought it would, despite all the wetness coating his walls. Still, clenching his teeth he refuses to stop until Akira's fully sheathed inside him, the dull pain of it enough to make his lower stomach ache. It's delicious, it's all he ever wanted, and when he moans, he doesn't need to pretend.

At that moment, he's sure that they were made to do this. He was made to take Akira's cock. He never had anyone fit him so well. 

He feels weirdly powerful, looking over Akira's unconscious body as if he already won whatever little game they were playing. He wonders how fast he can make him come. He wonders if he can make _himself_ come just from having his rival's cock inside him. He never had an orgasm when having sex before, and the thought that he could is more thrilling that he's likely willing to admit. 

And then, he wonders if Akira's a virgin. He certainly seems like he would be. 

Still, even the sheer possibility that he wouldn't be makes rage rise in his chest, and angrily he realizes his mood is completely ruined. He moves his hips in small circles just to buy himself some time to calm down, but he's not as wet as he was just a few seconds ago, and the burn gets more uncomfortable. 

Well, not like it matters anymore. No one asked for Akechi's permission either. Why should Akira have it any better than he did?

He should consider himself lucky - so many people would gladly take Akira's place and Akechi wouldn't have to drug them for it. They would appreciate him, they would love him the way Akira never would. Because Akira is just some attic trash - he's worthless, worthless, _worthless_. 

_Worthless attic trash who doesn't want him._

It stings more than it should, Shido's words still echoing in his head. He hates that even with his cunt deliciously full with Akira's cock, he can't get his father out of his head.

 _It’s all worth it_ , he tells himself. Someday he’ll get Shido the same way he got all these other guys - he can feel himself getting wet just thinking about it. He’ll wait until Shido gets elected and then release a video of the Prime Minister fucking his son, disgusting and sweating like a nasty pig that he is.

He rolls his hips with a gasp, the thoughts of Akira and his father mixing in his mind somehow spurting him on.

He hates how good Akira feels inside him - he’s big enough to make Akechi’s brain feel fuzzy, and for it to be just the right amount of painful, stretching his hole so wide that he wishes that he’d take his phone just to take some pictures for his own viewing pleasure. He lowers his hand to brush his fingers against the place where they’re joined together. He wants this moment to last forever.

Maybe Shido will let him watch the video after he’s done. Knowing his father, he’ll likely jerk off to it, the way he always does.

The thought makes him feel both sick and just a little turned on.

 _Shido's going to see it -_ it's the one thought that keeps him going as he moans louder than before, his motions fluid and flawless. He ignores the stubborn burn of his thighs, riding Akira until he's all but breathless, feeling sweat roll on his chest and back, and he rubs his sensitive nipples between his fingers, imagining it's Akira's hands on him instead.

And then he stops for a moment, throwing his head back, pretending to orgasm just for the tape's sake. He uses that time to collect his thoughts.

He wonders how much it's going to take him to get Akira to come. 

Akechi moves his hips experimentally, but there’s still something bothering him. He grits his teeth as he looks down on Akira’s sleeping form - it’s not like him to get distracted. Maybe it’s because he wants it to mean something. Maybe it’s because Akira’s disgustingly perfect, and he wishes he weren’t. Even asleep, he’s trying to best Akechi. It pisses him off so much it’s hard for him to set a good rhythm.

He lowers himself down again for a moment until he’s full and looks at Akira’s sleeping face.

“I hope this destroys you,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I hope you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror.”

He really hopes Akira will hate him for this.

Somehow the thought makes him wet again and he moans a little, rubbing his clit as he moves his hips up and down, eager to get as much out of it as he can.

He wants to enjoy it because Akira wouldn’t.

Akira would take him apart slowly, eating him out, always happy to attend to other people’s needs before his own. Some silly part of him wishes for a reality where he could have Akira awake for this - have his arms wrapped around him as he whispers tender words of praise into Akechi’s ear. He'd tell Akechi just how beautiful he is, how well he's doing taking Akira's cock. He'd make sure Akechi feels safe and comfortable at all times, and Akechi already hates that about him.

And then he wonders if he could get Akira to fuck him like an animal instead. To fuck him relentlessly the way all these other men fucked him, happy to partake in Shido’s generous gift. He wants Akira to tear him apart. He wants to take him like he doesn't care for Akechi's enjoyment. He wants him to leave him hanging, refusing to let him come, and maybe he could get him to fuck his ass too, just this once, so it hurts even more the next day. He shivers when he thinks about having both of his holes filled like the pathetic whore he is. He wants to have Akira's spent leaking from both of them, dribbling down his naked thighs. 

Akechi can’t wait to get Akira’s cum inside him. He briefly entertains the thought of taking it home without cleaning himself, and then probably he’d fuck himself some more, his juices mixing with Akira’s sperm. He wants it to leak from his hole, to stain his pants under his coat as he stands next to all these oblivious passengers on the train who won’t know about anything that transpired. He wants to take this little proof with him, just for himself.

Careful not to let Akira's cock slip from his hole, he leans over Akira’s unconscious body, panting as he forces Akira’s mouth to open, and shoves his tongue inside. Akira would never kiss him like this, but right now, Akechi can take anything Akira has to give. This is how delinquent trash like him should kiss - wet, open, and filthy. This is how whores like Akechi are meant to be kissed. He feels sick imagining Akira trying to be gentle with him, kissing him in some romantic setting, trying to be a gentleman about it. Like he needs Akira's pity. 

But if Akira wants Akechi to feel good, then Akechi is happy to provide. 

He takes Akira’s hand in his own and presses his limp fingers against his clit, rubbing them furiously until it's too much until his body bends with oversensitivity. He thinks about Akira waking up to find his hand sticky from Akechi's cunt, and just that single thought is enough to push him over the edge, and his walls clench hard around Akira's cock still inside him, Akechi's body bending backward from sudden pleasure. He doesn't expect his body to completely give out, and for a moment, he leans forward and he lets his head rest against Akira's chest, his body still convulsing with aftershocks as he whines pathetically like a wounded animal. 

And then he feels it, a growing warmth inside him as Akira's cum fills his cunt up to the brim, and he almost comes again just from the feeling of it.

Even in his sleep, Akira waited for Akechi to get off first. It almost makes him laugh.

He lets them stay like this for a while, his hips still rocking involuntarily with Akira's soft cock inside of him. A part of him wishes they could stay like this the whole night, but he has no way of knowing how long he has until the drug leaves Akira's system. He winces as he lets Akira's length slip out from his hole, feeling empty and cold.

Maybe he can allow himself just this moment of self-indulgence, curling against Akira's body, still sweaty and shaken from his orgasm. It's okay, he tells himself. It's almost like making love. It's different from what he did with all these other men. He loves Akira, and it's different from the way his father loves him.

He sprawls his hand over Akira's chest, Akira's heartbeat steady and comforting under his fingertips. 

Maybe, in the end, he wants Akira to love him. To know what it's like to despise someone but love them at the same time. He never had to seduce Akira, to begin with. Akira belongs to him now - body and soul.

But Akira would never get it. Akira would never get that Akechi just made love to him. That this is the only intimacy he can get. But he'll see it once he watches the type. That much Akechi's sure of.

He reaches out behind himself to gather some of the come mixed with his own spent, and he spreads some of it on Akira’s lips with his fingertip.

And then he kisses him, moaning at the taste of their joint pleasure, and rubbing his wet pussy on Akira’s naked thigh. He rocks his hips fast, gasping into Akira’s mouth until his second orgasm takes him by surprise, and his teeth close sharply around Akira’s bottom lip until he feels the familiar taste of blood on his tongue.

"You were so good to me and you don't even know," he whimpers against Akira's mouth.

Akira sighs in his sleep, but he doesn't wake up.

He's not done just yet. He needs to leave proof. Usually, they leave something personal - a picture of someone's wife or kid, for example. Just so they know how much they're going to lose when the word of what they've done gets out. But Akira doesn't have that much to lose. And Akechi knows he wouldn't care about what his family thinks of him, it's too late for that.

Akira cares about his friends, however. And who's Akechi if not his friend, after all?

So he leans in, and he leaves a hickey just above Akira’s nipple to mark his presence. He only just noticed but he left some scratch marks on his chest too, likely unable to control himself when he came for the first time. He uses Akira's shirt to clean some of the mess from between his legs, and he drops it on Akira's chest.

Then, almost tenderly, he covers Akira's body with a duvet, and before he can stop himself, he kisses Akira's forehead. It's not like Akira will know about that part.

He gathers the equipment and gets dressed, his mind already blank - ever the professional, ever happy to finish his job.

He only stops for a moment, just before the stairs, his briefcase weirdly heavy in his hand. 

“How does it feel to be on the receiving end of the calling card,” Akechi muses, sparing one last glance at Akira’s body. “Tell me next time... Joker.”


End file.
